asked Rick Parker He was edging his way along between the chairs towards a table in the corner, his tray held high in the air as it passed precariously over the heads of the lunchtime crowd. Justine gave him a quick glance backward, catching sight of him briefly as he struggled to keep up with her while she deftly manoeuvred towards the table she had chosen. “I’ll let you figure that out for yourself,” she replied, dismissing the question coolly as she led the way through the throngs of customers with a degree of self-confidence that bordered on bravado. “I reckoned that if you wouldn’t let me defend you in court, at least you’d let me buy you lunch. I’d like to feel that I’m earning my keep in some way.” They slid easily if without grace onto the olive-green formica seats. The act of sitting down offered Parker a sense of relief, a feeling of taking shelter from the lunchtime rush even if they were still in the thick of it.
